The Other Reason
by inconsistentlypresent
Summary: In which Lovelace and Minkowski maybe-sort-of-kind-of reveal their feelings for each other - but the timing is, as things so often are on the Hephaestus, shit. [Wolf 359 fic set right after Fire and Brimstone.]


Kepler had confined her to three weeks of solitary, and Minkowski had no choice but to obey. The first day had passed agonizingly, every minute like an hour. Minkowski spent most of it pacing; she was dismayed, resentful, furious that she was losing her time and energies, and could do nothing about it. The one emotion she didn't feel was surprise. Kepler was dangerous, she already knew that. Now she just needed to figure out how to get rid of him.

Minkowski spent the next day crafting elaborate revenge schemes, all of which relied on an unrealistic amount of luck, guns, and good timing. But eventually that got to be boring, and time kept passing, every moment equally uneventful. Minkowski was now about a week into her punishment, and the days were starting to blur.

Minkowski absentmindedly hooked her feet into the wall, as she wondered what Hilbert had done to cope when he was the one locked up in the observation deck. She almost felt bad for making him go through it, even though he'd only been in solitary for 48 hours, comparatively a small amount.

Minkowski frowned. If only her biggest problem now was Hilbert. He was still slimy, and terrible, but Kepler and Maxwell and Jacobi were unknowns. And Minkowski and her crew did not need any more unknowns.

Minkowski exhaled deeply, closed her eyes, feeling her shoulders slump. She knew, of course, that their ability to get rid of Kepler and his cronies depended largely on her ability to get it together. But her usual grim determination had disappeared today, tail between its legs. Oh, she would be alright. Minkowski always bounced back. But today, she felt burned out, lost, and all she could think about was her crew.

Minkowski knew - and some of the others must, as well - that the current situation on the Hephaestus would turn into us-against-them, sooner or later. On Team Us, alongside Minkowski, were Eiffel and Hera. And Hilbert too, she supposed; he definitely hated Kepler more than he hated her. On Team Them were Kepler, Jacobi, and Maxwell.

But she couldn't figure out where to place Lovelace. Every time Minkowski tried, she failed. Was she a friend or foe? Like always, Lovelace defied categorization.

Minkowski had thought - she'd thought they'd come to some sort of understanding. After Lovelace saved Eiffel's life, maybe they were finally allies. Friends even.

If Minkowski were being entirely honest, her inital wariness about Lovelace also had to do with jealousy. Lovelace was everything Minkowski wished she was - cool, calm, respected, liked. But soon Minkowski found herself seeing what everyone else saw in Lovelace. And (she was smart enough to pretend it didn't exist, but) Minkowski started feeling strange around Lovelace; a flutter in her stomach when Lovelace spoke to her or touched her. It was so ridiculous. Minkowski ignored it and hoped it would disappear.

Then they'd lost Eiffel, and when they got him back, Kepler was part of the bargain. And then Lovelace had just let him _bulldoze over_ Minkowski, demote her and dismiss her and see through her. Minkowski knew she shouldn't expect anyone else to put their ass on the line for her in such an uncertain situation - and Lovelace had rightfully bargained for all she was worth - but it hurt nonetheless.

Every time Lovelace took Kepler's side, Minkowski felt her heart harden. It made her realize that Lovelace would always prioritize herself, no matter what she said.

Minkowski sighed, and tried to put Lovelace out of her mind. Her stomach growled. She looked to the door, knowing that her dinner would soon come. Usually Kepler sent Maxwell or Jacobi with meals. They never talked to her, and she'd stopped asking them questions.

Out of the corner of her eye, Minkowski could see Wolf 359. She remembered when she first came up here, how she thought that the star's red light was blindingly beautiful, how every time she looked out a window, she felt a boost of motivation. She was breaking new ground, seeing new stars. How stupid. Now the star was blue, and she wished she'd never taken this job at all.

Minkowski heard the door of the observatory open, and she turned, expecting to see either a bored-looking Jacobi or a bored-looking Maxwell.

However, the person who came through the door wasn't either of them. "Hey," said Lovelace. The first words anyone had spoken to Minkowski in a week, and they were 'Hey'.

Minkowski looked at her warily. "What are you doing here?" she said, voice a little rough from disuse. As she spoke, she unhooked her feet from where she'd braced herself against the wall, in order to float closer to Lovelace, and braced herself on one of the wall handles.

"I . . . brought you dinner," Lovelace said, lifting the tray in her hand demonstratively. She hesitated before closing the door behind her.

Minkowski smoothed back her hair, before realizing that it really didn't matter. Even if she looked unkempt, Lovelace wouldn't care. She always seemed above those sorts of things.

In the past, Minkowski had found herself both annoyed by and jealous of Lovelace's effortless not-caring attitude. Now it only made her feel resigned. "Thank you," she said.

Lovelace offered the tray to her and Minkowski took it, trying not to flinch when their hands brushed. She glanced down at the tray, then stopped, staring in confusion.

Aside from the usual glop that they gave her, there was something else: a slice of soft, white bread - the kind reserved for deserts - with a green-tinged filling. It was all wrapped up in clear plastic.

"What's this?" Minkowski asked.

"Well -" Lovelace cleared her throat, "you know that the Urania brought lots of new food supplies."

"Of course," Minkowski said. She couldn't prevent some bitterness entering her voice, as she thought about how easily Kepler had tricked them all, like they were a pack of stupid animals, distracted by chicken and bread and chocolate.

Lovelace looked uncomfortable, but pressed on. "It's your birthday today, isn't it?"

Minkowski raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "It is," she said.

"Okay. Keep in mind I don't normally do this sort of thing," Lovelace warned, with an undercurrent of uncertainty now running through her voice. "But - yeah. I made that. For you."

When Minkowski didn't immediately reply, Lovelace hurried to continue, as if afraid of the silence. "I didn't know the first thing about cooking in space. And I didn't know how to make cake frosting with the ingredients we have on board. So Hera, Eiffel, and I figured it out - with a lot of trial and error. And gagging, on the part of those of us who have taste buds. But we finally got it to taste like frosting, I promise."

Minkowski felt her face break into a small, slow smile; as much as she hated herself for it, she just couldn't help the flutter in her stomach that was already returning. "I can't believe you made me a birthday cake," she said, voice coming out softer than she intended, almost a whisper.

Lovelace shrugged, looked at Minkowski almost cautiously through her eyelashes. "I mean, it's still _space_ birthday cake, so it won't taste much like any cake you've had before."

"That's fine," Minkowski said. She'd eaten enough meals in space at this point that she had adjusted the standards of her tastebuds considerably. Besides, the taste of the birthday cake didn't matter (Minkowski didn't much like the American birthday cakes back on Earth either; too sweet and crumbly). It was the gesture itself that mattered. She could not remember the last time anyone had done something like this for her. Ridiculously, she felt like crying.

Minkowski took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of herself. She had to consider why was Lovelace doing this in the first place. Maybe Lovelace had an ulterior motive; maybe this was all a part of Kepler's plan. It hurt to even entertain the possibility - that this wasn't genuine, that this was all a lie - but she had to face the facts. As she carefully put the dinner tray to the side, she said, stiffly, "But I don't understand why."

"I just thought, since you're in solitary and all - I thought you could use a break."

"Gee. Thanks," Minkowski said dryly, heart falling a little. She didn't want Lovelace's pity. She didn't want any of this to be because of guilt. But at the same time, Minkowski, though she'd never admit it, had felt more alone than ever these past several week. And now, after experiencing just one little gesture of kindness, she couldn't bring herself to be truly angry.

And that was the worst part of all of this; that despite everything, Minkowski just couldn't stop _caring_.

Lovelace sighed. "And . . . there's one other reason," she said, voice dropping to such a low volume that Minkowski had to lean forward to hear her.

Lovelace's deep brown eyes darted up to meet Minkowski's, and for a moment they were frozen there, held by some invisible force. Minkowski could feel her heart thudding wildly. It was like her whole body was pulsing in paralyzed anticipation - she knew Lovelace was about to say something important - and she waited, not knowing what to expect.

But she definitely didn't expect Lovelace to, of all things, roll her eyes, mutter, "Fuck it", and then lean forward to kiss Minkowski on the mouth.

Minkowski made a little gasp, completely taken aback, but her body seemed to work on its own accord. She found herself responding enthusiastically. Shivers of pleasure, of excitement ran down her spine. How long had it been since she'd been kissed like this, or kissed at all? Since someone had placed a hand on her hip and held her close? Lovelace was warm, warm, warm, and Minkowski felt like her whole body had been set ablaze.

They broke away and stared at each other. Minkowski had to look away first. Her face felt like it was burning. _What the hell was that?_ she thought, a dawning sense of horror already creeping over her mind.

"I . . ." Lovelace said, "Minkowski, that was . . ."

 _Did Kepler plan this too?_ Minkowski thought, as she looked into Lovelace's eyes, still hazy with desire. _Did he send Lovelace just as another distraction?_

It couldn't be, Lovelace would never -

And here realization struck her over the head. Lovelace's intentions didn't matter. Either way, pursuing this little experiment further would only make Minkowski more open to injury. It would just be another avenue for Command to exploit. And she couldn't afford more weakness, not now, when she was still trying to make herself stronger.

"No," Minkowski blurted.

Lovelace frowned. "What?"

"No, I - that was a terrible mistake." Minkowski swallowed. "We're all professionals here. Let's just - let's pretend that never happened."

Lovelace's mouth opened, closed. She looked as though she'd just been struck across the face.

"Please," Minkowski said, and she didn't want to beg, but she would if it meant Lovelace would _stop looking at her like that_.

 _I'm doing this to protect us,_ she thought desperately. It looked cowardly, but it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't. She was making the right choice, she knew she was.

Lovelace looked away. "Alright." Her voice was clipped, emotionless. It was the voice of the Lovelace whom Minkowski had known before - the Lovelace who threatened to blow them all up. The Lovelace who didn't give a damn about whether Minkowski lived or died.

"Alright," Minkowski repeated, as she watched Lovelace leave. The door of the observation deck slammed shut with a loud bang, and Minkowski winced. Just then, her dinner tray bumped against her side- but from the way her stomach turned at the mere thought, she knew she wouldn't be able to eat anything.


End file.
